Quilting Hope

"So you're not home watching the inauguration?" the fabric clerk asked me last Tuesday afternoon.

I shook my head, "I just got off work and have errands to run after being cooped up in the cold weather. I've got a stack of laundry that's a mile high and a broken iron."


"Today's an historical day," I shrugged. "But, I gave up TV eight years ago." She nodded, "I don't blame you." She moved closer to confide: "They're really building a lot on this one guy."

"I know what you mean," I said. "Say... what's the difference between those two brands of irons you carry.

"I was considering the more expensive one. Is it worth the extra money?"

She shook her head, "They're both good. With the one, you're just paying for the brand name."

After reading all the features on both models, I opted for the less expensive one. On a whim, I browsed through the fabric aisles to see the new selections.

I found one to complement a few lengths that I'd recently bought to cure my mid-winter fever brought on by what my hubby calls 'my creative illness.'

At home Wednesday, I laundered the fabric for shrinkage. In between, chores I watched the featured YouTube video of the day: Obama's inaugural speech.


Later, I opened my new iron and compared it to my old one. Both models were made by the same company. The new one is the first I've ever purchased. The old one, I won as a clothing prize during my 4-H days. I hate giving up – even broken – things. Sometimes just for memory's sake. Then, I recalled our new president's words:


"The time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness."

I had before me FIVE measures –
of quilting fabric.

The inspiration transpired from a bedtime ritual with Noah. For the past month, while my son has snuggled under the covers, I've read aloud pioneer stories from the childhood days of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Turning page after page, Noah and I travel back into the early days of our American history through the eyes of a young girl named Laura. By day, Ma and the girls keep the home and garden while Pa hunts and breaks ground to farm.

As I measured widths and ripped long lengths of fabric to "break ground" for a strip quilt, I thought of another part of our new president's address:

"In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame.


"Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women, obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.
"For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life. For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

"Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger, greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction."

As I laid out fabric strips to sew together, I thought of the Ingalls family in the time before they set out West.

By the firelight of their cozy cabin in the Big Woods, Pa told tales and played the fiddle to sing his girls to sleep and entertain Ma as she rocked in her chair sewing on quilts patched together from clothing remnants.

My quilt work continued over the following days. I recalled other parts of our president's address:

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness... We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace."

I ironed out seams and thought of the Ingalls. Upon reading "word from Washington" published in an 1870s newspaper, they attempted to settle in Indian Territory which was believed to be opened soon for settlement.

There the family sought to make peace – with the wild prairie, their neighbors in need, a traveling doctor who treated them for malaria and the natives – one of whom argued fervently with other tribes to spare the presumptive settlers' lives.

Then a new word came from Washington, that the settlers must leave. Not wishing to be ushered out by soldiers, Pa packed up his family. When Ma sighed, "A whole year gone." Pa answered cheerfully, "What's a year amount to? We have all the time there is."

Once again, they traveled by covered wagon through the vastness of the High Prairie where – in every direction – only the wind whipped the tall grasses. Stopping to look, Pa said, "It's a great country. But (it) will be wild... for many a long day."

I thought of the same wildness in my quilt – watching it come together piece by piece. I'm in no hurry to finish. Rather, I'd see it done well. And then some day, when it's ready, I can think back on our 44th president's challenge:

"Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

Now that's Quilting Hope.